


Appearances May Deceive

by Vae



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2010-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-06 09:40:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vae/pseuds/Vae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's fingers are bigger than they look, and Merlin's distracted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appearances May Deceive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrs_plinks](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=mrs_plinks).



> Merlin and the characters belong to the BBC. No infringement of copyright intended, no profit is being made.

The thing about Arthur's fingers, Merlin is rapidly discovering, is that they're stronger than he'd thought. For all that Merlin apparently does all the work around here, including writing Arthur's correspondence when he decides he has to send any because he can't trust the clerks with his confidential letters, including cleaning that sodding armour over and again, including cleaning Arthur's chambers and making his bed and dressing him, for all of that, Arthur has to be doing _something_ with his fingers all day because they are, in fact, pretty strong. And knowledgeable, and persistent. For example, the two of them currently buried inside Merlin's arse are unfeasibly long, and wider than they look, and they never, ever stop moving, even when Merlin almost wishes that they would.

Especially when Merlin wishes that they would.

He's bent over the side of Arthur's ridiculously large bed, face down (or he would be face down if he wanted to suffocate but since he doesn't he's got his head turned to the side so why anyone would call it 'face down' entirely escapes Merlin) with his hose around his knees and tunic flipped up. It's all very undignified, though he's getting very used to being or at least appearing undignified in Arthur's service, which is why he's the one bent over the bed rather than Arthur. At least, that was Arthur's explanation for it, Merlin's not so sure.

He's not sure of much, right now.

Well, he's very sure that Arthur's got two oiled fingers inside his arse, that one can hardly escape his notice, especially as those two fingers keep moving and twisting and curling until Merlin's own fingers are curling, dragging against the bedcovers, pulling them into creases he can grip because he's got to grip something as the world begins to spin around him. Arthur's fingers are pressing against something that makes his vision blur and his breath catch around curses, and his prick harden uncomfortably against the bed. He's sure about that, too. He's very sure that it's uncomfortable, because he tried reaching down to adjust it and found his hand slapped away by Arthur, a surprisingly gentle grip that he didn't even try to escape when Arthur pressed his hand back against the bedcovers.

So he's uncomfortable and hard and bent over Arthur's bed with Arthur's fingers in his arse, and he's rocking against the bed because he's got to do _something_, and he's more worked up and turned on than he can remember ever being before he came to Camelot. Of course, his memory's probably not at it's _best_ right now but...oh, his vocabulary of curses is very definitely doing very well.

"Such language," Arthur's voice comes from behind him, lazy and amused and very nearly the tone Merlin's used to hearing. Nearly. Not quite, there's a roughness there. "Honestly, Merlin, what _are_ you learning in the stables?"

Nothing like the things he's learning in Arthur's bedchamber, that much is for certain, and he hadn't meant to say that aloud, but apparently he did, because Arthur laughs, and pushes his fingers deeper, spreading them apart until the deep ache of it seems to reach all the way across Merlin's lower back, making him cant his hips up towards Arthur. Which also moves his prick away from the bed and he's not quite sure if that's a relief or a curse.

"I would hope not," Arthur says, almost primly, and then the fingers are gone and then Merlin's prick is back against the bedframe and...oh, there _is_ something that feels bigger than Arthur's fingers.


End file.
